12TH APRIL,

Some days ago Hansen had been like who he was. In the mid of April's first week, Hansen had been paid with salary from construction in cash which he intended to spend all of it for his addiction – nicotine. The man would normally take up to two packets of cigarettes on day to day basis. In work also he was used to of smoking which the higher authorities had strict sanctions on.

"Don’t smoke. The piece of shit can fall in concrete mixture. Next time, if you're caught red handed, you'd be gone!"

But Hansen still had the same job.

Benjamin Hansen would often think what would happen if he spread the concrete on engineer's face and let it dry. The man would look like a statue made as condolence for an honorable person. Addicted of thinking, his cupboard was full of un-prescribed antidepressants.

In leisure, Hansen was either found lighting tip of his cigarette or lighting woods in the fireplace. The man had a peculiar habit which made him need to get warmth all the time his mind was unoccupied (no matter how hot it was outside in summer).

But something was waiting for him that night. The misery was meant for him.

Despite his habit, last couple of days had been a different issue. The fireplace was left untouched. Christmas was, by far, too far from April and neither Hansen had feeling of un-wellness within him. Nor he lacked woods and twigs to light. The habit of his childhood was fading and looked like it was nearing to an end like his enthusiasm to use his thoughts.

But for two nights, he had been hearing sound of tramps within his house for a split of second. The sound would emerge almost at midnight which was sound of someone take long breath and hard tramp on the floor. It was identical to a porter slamming his rucksack or a wrestler slamming his opponent to knock his ass out. Then would be heard a sharp cat like sound for some more seconds. The high pitched voice could only be of kittens or a tom cat, he guessed. Still Hansen couldn’t figure out where the hell had the cat made its residence. The hour hand in the clock was about to touch two and Hansen still was trying to keep his eyelids shut (for the love of God Almighty) until he would dream of something he wanted. Lucid dreams were what he had all wanted, for his lifetime, but that night either he wanted to sleep or shut the cat. His lack of sleep made him feel more like an Insomnia patient but this man didn’t need any prescribed sleeping pills to get attached in his bed with eyes shut and lucid dreams within his head. REM Matters…Peace matters….sleep matters. All he needed was some gulps of whiskey downstairs in the refrigerator.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

The moment he got downstairs, the sound of cat was audible clear and the sound came from the fireplace which had been shut for the couple of days. Now he didn’t need any whiskey but the source of sound.

Hansen grabbed the key and then unlocked the door of fireplace with no trouble to see Mr. Puss but what he saw was what made him sigh in disbelief. The sound wasn’t of any cat; it never had been, after all. They were agonized shrieks of a blonde ranging age between 9 and 12. She had a short hair, like a model had straight come from a makeover session, but her mouth was covered by a duct tape some ropes fastened her hands and legs.

He couldn’t believe what he had just seen.